


Lost in a Foreign Land

by Rowan_Xander



Category: Eldarya (Video Game)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22602808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowan_Xander/pseuds/Rowan_Xander
Summary: Oratel was no stranger to foreign lands; she had traveled to several when she was younger. She had always used horses, carriages, or her own feet. Teleportation was an entirely new mode of transportation she had never encountered before.In the blink of an eye, she finds herself in a world where fantastical and bizarre creatures live and thrive. And as much as she would love to acquaint herself with these possible allies, her kingdom is in dire need of its Queen.
Kudos: 4





	1. The New Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally posted to the Tales of El forum on the official Eldarya website. It was betaed by Lunartempest.
> 
> Additional edits have been made since it's original posting; grammar fixes, slimming down some awkwardly worded sentences, etc. The overall content remains unchanged.

Oratel rubbed her eyes. The flash of light that had previously enveloped her was still seared into her retinas. From what little she could glean of her surroundings she guessed that she wasn't outside as she had been; the wind no longer licked at her face and the ambience of the forest had been similarly silenced. Not a single sound permeated the space she was in.

Blinking a few times, the room slowly came into focus. Good, she hadn't been permanently blinded. She swiveled her head to and fro in an attempt to better survey the strange place. It was circular in shape and enormous. Minute ribbons of blue and gold were etched into the floor, walls, and ceiling, clearly made with a delicate hand for a place of significance. Oratel’s eyes were drawn to the massive crystal that loomed overhead in the center of the room, glowing as if a single candle lit it from the inside. Beyond the crystal and cast in its shadow laid a single wooden door with a detailed frame.

Oratel felt drawn towards the crystal, its overwhelming presence leaving her nearly breathless. As she strode forward, her riding boots clacked against the marble, a steady rhythm that matched the beat of her heart. For reasons she couldn't begin to explain, Oratel knew the crystal was beckoning her forth.

As she pressed a gloved palm against the surface of the jewel, she could just make out her reflection; her sepia brown skin was still flush against her oval face, but the corners of her gray eyes were starting to form wrinkles. The left side of her face was slack; the corner of her lip was set in a permanent frown and her eye was almost closed, her vision blurred by eyelashes.

Her image was distorted by several dents and notches in the surface of the crystal, as if someone had taken a pickaxe to it. She was about to inspect the dents further when a shout echoed through the room. The scratching of wood against stone echoed against the walls as the stranger rushed towards Oratel.

Taking a step away from the crystal, she turned her eyes towards the woman before her. She had long, blue-ish black hair that looked harsh against her white skin. What intrigued Oratel the most about the stranger were the black tails and ears that sprouted from her back and head, a sight she had never seen before in her home kingdom.

“Who are you?!” the woman cried, her features twisted in anger. “How did you get in here?” The flames in her cage burned brighter and higher with each word, as if reflecting the rage the women was feeling.

Straightening herself to her full height, Oratel replied diplomatically, “My name is Oratel and I'm the Queen of Erria. My traveling party was attacked on the way back to my kingdom. I do not know exactly how I got here, only that I am not where I'm supposed to be.”

The woman eyed the top of Oratel's head; her black hair had been twisted into braids and tucked into a neat bun, small silver streaks standing out against the darkness. Guessing what the women might say next, Oratel stated, “There's more to a queen than a crown, Miss...”

“Miiko.” The stranger's initial outrage seemed to have swept over her and rolled away like the ocean tides. “I'm the leader around here, head of the Light Guard. Where did you say you were from again?”

“The kingdom of Erria. I mean no offense, but I need to get home as soon as I can, Miss Miiko. I cannot stay here, my kingdom needs me,” Oratel replied in a grave tone.

To her dismay, it didn't seem as though Miiko had listened. In fact, she looked thoroughly unmoved. “Queen or not, you still managed to intrude into a place that's strictly off-limits to anyone who isn't part of the Guard.

“Jamon, you know what to do.” She gestured at a very tall, warthog-like man with dark gray skin and a red mohawk. Startled by his sudden appearance, she didn't realize that he had grasped a hand around one of her arms until he began to tug her out of the room. Miiko glanced at Oratel, who looked somewhat distressed. “I'll deal with you later.” With a flick of one of her tails, she was gone faster than Oratel could blink.

As she was pulled into the hallway, Oratel dug her heels into the plush red carpet, although it did little to stop the persistent Jamon. “Unhand me! There is no reason for me to be treated this way!” she ordered in frustration. Whether they believed her or not, this was no way to handle a foreigner who was clearly confused.

Jamon said nothing, keeping his face turned forward, unwilling to give her the time of day. His strength more than overpowered her, meaning that breaking out of his grasp would be next to impossible. But if he was going to act like a stubborn mule, she would at least make things difficult for him.

Struggling with all her might, she kicked at Jamon anywhere she could reach. He must have been made of nothing but hardened muscle and sinew for none of her kicks made him even budge or grunt in pain. Eventually, he said, “No hit me. You only tire self.”

Oratel blinked. “Ah, so you do speak.” She stopped her pathetic attempt at escape, begrudgingly agreeing with him. “If you'd be so kind as to let me go, I'll readily follow you to wherever it is that you're taking me.” Surely if the beast was capable of talking he would listen to reason.

Jamon shook his head. “No,” he replied flatly. “Could escape.”

“Now, be reasonable, sir!” she blurted, the rest of her argument coming out in a rush. “There's nowhere for me to go. I do not know the lay of this land nor do I know anyone. I don't even understand how I ended up here in the first place! 'Twould be quite foolish of me to escape when I'm well and truly lost!”

Jamon stopped in his tracks. They were at the beginning of a staircase that never seemed to end. She thought she could see her points being weighed against his loyalty to Miiko. A few moments later, his grip loosened, but he didn't let go of her until he had placed her in front of him.

“Walk on,” he told her. “Don't run, or I hurt you.” His right hand tightened around the tall halberd he was carrying, underlying his threat.

Offering him a warm smile, she said, “Sir, I wouldn't even dream of it.”As she started her descent, she straightened out her riding jacket and trousers. Even as a prisoner, a Queen should look her best.

Down, down, down they went. With each step, the reality of the situation further set in. She wasn't anywhere near home and she wouldn’t be going back anytime soon. Somehow, through some twist of fate, she had ended up in a strange building being guided to a cell by some man of an unknown species. She subconsciously twiddled with the white bracelet of braided hair hanging on her right wrist.

 _Illiath, if only you could help me now, like you did all those years ago,_ she thought longingly. _If only..._

She shook her head then took a deep breath. There was no point in bemoaning the drastic turn her situation had taken. What she needed to do first was figure out a way to send a letter to her husband, to notify him that she was well and would return. Then she would focus all of her efforts on persuading her captors to help her out.

“You go in now.”

Startled, she realized that their trek down the staircase was finished. In front of her was an opened door of steel bars, a lock embedded into the left-hand side. Without waiting for her mind to catch up, Jamon shoved her into the dark and dreary cell, shutting the door with a loud clang that rang in her ears. After checking to be sure the lock held fast, he turned to walk back up, his footsteps echoing against the cold stone walls.

The cell looked more like the beginnings of an underground swamp than a legitimate dungeon. Damp earth covered in moss shaped the ground. Near the entrance was a small dock that reached out into a sickly green lake. Spherical cages hung from the ceiling along with stalactites. It smelled dank and faintly of rotting ferns or leaves.

When she couldn't hear Jamon any longer, Oratel sat down in the one dry patch she had managed to find. She got to work undoing her bun, beginning to pull out black pins that were no longer than her pinkie. Soon enough, a pile of them sat in front her, a long braid cascading down her back. Gathering them up, she placed them in the breast pocket of her jacket.

She would attempt to break out of her holdings later. It was too risky to do it now, when her captor's would surely be expecting her to try. Instead, she made herself as comfortable as she could. An onset of exhaustion hit her as she laid her head against a cold rock. Closing her eyes, the thoughts of her struggling country flitted through her mind until a wave of unconsciousness finally overcame her.


	2. Her Story

The harsh clunking of metal against metal abruptly woke Oratel from her slumber. Her neck and back felt sore after sleeping at an awkward angle for so long; the cell wasn’t exactly accommodating. How many hours— or days, heaven forbid— had she slept away?

With a yawn, she stretched her limbs and hoisted herself up. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she took a few tentative steps towards the entrance. “Who goes there?” she called, but instead of sounding loud and demanding, her voice came out as soft and merely curious.

The door swung wide open. A person clothed in black and red stepped through. They didn’t utter a single word; perhaps that was because they wore a full-face mask that resembled a dragon. Judging by their physique, Oratel guessed that they were likely male. The masked man made a gesture towards the staircase then stepped away from the entrance, making room for her to pass by.

“I see your leader has decided to listen to me,” Oratel said flatly. _It's about time_ , her tone implied. She stepped out from her damp prison and had just started to ascend the staircase when she remembered her manners. “Pardon me, I forgot to ask what...” her voice faltered when she saw that the masked man had disappeared.

The gut-wrenching sensation of suspicion began to grow inside her. Whoever this man was, he was most likely going against orders. If she were to be found out of her cell by anyone else, who knows what could happen?

Hesitating for a few moments, Oratel walked back in reluctantly. No matter how much she wanted to leave, she had to be on her best behavior. Doing so would, hopefully, help win her captor’s favor.

A thought flitted through her mind. It was entirely possible that the masked man had risked something in order to get those keys. What that something was, Oratel could only begin to guess. His reputation? Life? Identity? That last one would make sense, given his attire.

Oratel looked over her shoulder, the door still ajar. She stood in indecision for what felt like hours, contemplating the pros and cons of the situation. After a time, the cell door started to swing close, as though tired of her indecision. In a panic, she rushed forth and held it open, her heart beating wildly. Unknowingly, she had made her choice.

Starting up the winding staircase, she became frustrated at herself. Was she not a queen? Had she not calmed down a raging monarch just this morning? And only with her words at that! Her anger at her situation steadied her racing thoughts as she gripped the railing.

Her steps took on a more determined rhythm as she made her way up the staircase. Her every movement echoed off the blue-green walls and her strained breaths became amplified the further up she went. She wasn’t even on the second set of stairs yet, but her legs already ached, her lungs crying out for air. More than ever, she regretted completely forgoing exercise in favor of entertaining ambassadors. While it was true keeping up relations with them was important, so was staying physically fit. After all, her bodyguards were back home and a silver tongue wasn’t an adequate enough weapon against the sort of opponents that roamed this strange land.

By the time she finally stepped up and over the last step, she began to pant heavily as sweat dripped down her back, sending shivers up her spine. She was thankful for the immense size of her own castle, otherwise she would have likely dropped to her knees in exhaustion long before now.

After taking a minute to catch her breath, Oratel followed the path to a brightly lit lobby, her head held high. She could feel the grooves of concentric circles in the floor beneath her feet. Looking down, she noticed that the circles held smaller designs within them, colored a nice mix of blues and purples. Plush velvet curtains hung between two pillars, standing from floor to ceiling. Several equally fancy doors lined the hall, each with its own theme. Dozens of steps spilled from the entrance door to the center, forming a curved staircase that allowed for access to the various rooms.

This room was truly an architectural marvel, one which impressed Oratel. Even the most extravagant castles she had visited were never this showy. Although, she couldn’t understand why the velvet curtains hung in such a useless fashion. Surely they would be better put to use attached to a window.

She shook her head; now was not the time to critique architecture. Her eyes focused on a large doorway, where light spilled in from the outside and pooled onto the marble floor. Tempting though it was to step out and explore, she forced herself to stay put. No good would come from her getting lost, of that she was certain. Instead, she attempted to find the corridor that Jamon had led her out from.

She walked briskly towards a side hallway, recognizing the distinct gold and red of the floor, the sound of her footsteps muffled by the thick carpeting. So focused was she in returning to the room she’d been in before that she failed to notice a tall black-haired man before stumbling straight into him.

She was so startled by the crash that she lost her balance and fell to the ground in a wobbly mess. The man loomed over her, licking his lips. “You smell delicious for a human, is it already time for dinner?”

Mouth agape, she could only stare at the man incredulously.

The man chuckled. “I know I'm breathtaking, but I didn't mean to make you speechless.” His voice was melodic, like a lullaby. “I prefer my women with a little more _roar_.”

Oratel pushed herself onto her feet, feeling woozy from the sudden motion. “Would you mind telling me who you are?” she asked irately. It wasn't exactly what she wanted to say, but it was the only words her mouth managed to form. It was probably for the best, regardless.

Bowing with a slight smirk, he beamed with pride. “I'm Nevra, leader of the Shadow Guard. I can't say I've seen you around before, and trust me, I get around.” He winked before inclining his head towards her. Nevra furrowed his brows, asking, “In fact, I’ve been around long enough to know that you’re not supposed to be here. Am I right?”

Resisting the urge to run, Oratel looked Nevra straight in the eyes. “You're correct, I am not. For reasons unknown to me, I was transported to this land. One of your own— a woman named Miiko, I believe— found me in that room-” She gestured to the door next to them. “-and then had her right hand man shove me into a prison cell with little explanation.”

“Jamon wouldn't leave a cell unlocked,” he muttered, looking perplexed. Though she couldn't tell what he was thinking, she didn't exactly like the pointed stare Nevra was giving her. “How did you get out?”

“A masked man—” She started but was interrupted by a loud shout.

“Where is she?” a familiar voice cried.

Nevra’s lips turned up into a smile. He swiftly grabbed Oratel by one of her wrists and tugged her towards the voice. “It looks like I’ve caught your little lost kitten!” he called.

Becoming increasingly frustrated, she ripped her hand out of his grip. “For heaven's sake!” she cried, giving him a glare that would make any man wary. “Is this how you treat new arrivals? By ignoring their words and locking them in cage with little explanation? I know a thing or two about leadership and this is no way to handle people who obviously need guidance!”

Nevra frowned. “If you'd stop whining for a minute, we'll be able to sort this out.” By this time, Miiko and Jamon had entered the corridor and were walking towards the two.

Incensed, Oratel snapped, “Maybe if that fox-woman hadn't locked me up without letting me get a word in edgewise, we wouldn't be having this conversation.”

Miiko’s eyes opened wide, the flames in the swinging cage reaching higher. “I locked you up because you're a liability and would only get in the way while we worked. We're very busy right now and I don't need a greenhorn messing everything up! I did say I'd deal with you later, didn't I? After everything I've seen so far, I can tell that you're nothing but trouble and the last thing Eldarya needs is more of it!” As an afterthought, she added, “How _did_ you get out, anyway?”

Putting a leash on her temper, Oratel replied, “A masked man unlocked the cell. I assumed he was a member of your organization and that one of you was willing to listen to my story.” She added in a mumble, “Clearly, I misjudged on both counts.”

Miiko, meanwhile, looked alarmed, even panicked. “What, _he's_ here again? Where did you last see him?”

“My prison cell, I thought I told you that,” Oratel said, her patience slowly running out.

“Nevra, go alert the rest of the Guard and get some of your members to search the grounds,” Miiko ordered. As he left, she turned to Jamon. “Bring the newcomer back to her cell and make sure to reinforce it however you can.”

Jamon reached for Oratel who slapped his hand away and took a step back. “I refuse to go until you hear what I have to say! You're only creating more problems by ignoring me, you stubborn fox!”

The blue flames started to grow larger again. “I don't have the _time_ to talk, human!” she snapped.

“Then get someone who does! If you have enough manpower to go on a manhunt, then you have enough people to ask at least _one_ of them to take your place,” Oratel pointed out.

“Miiko,” Jamon grunted. “Kero listen. Was in library.”

Miiko's glare could have burned a hole into Oratel's head. “Fine,” she said tightly. “Jamon, take her to the library and explain the situation to him. Tell him that he'll be responsible for the newcomer for the time being. Once that's done, come find me.” She left in flash of blue flames and black fur.

Jamon lead the “newcomer” out of the corridor, holding onto her tightly as he did. Stewing in her own temper, she had to bite her tongue to keep herself from saying something that would have only dug her a deeper grave. She had never felt so insulted before. What right did that vixen have to completely steamroll over her? This wasn't even a matter of disrespecting a queen. No one should have to go through the complete insensitivity she just experienced.

She could feel her energy draining away with each step up the staircase. Was her little nap really not enough? She sighed. _The woes of growing older_ , she supposed, eyeing a stray gray hair.

Standing in front of a large mahogany door, Oratel remembered that she’d received some help. “Forgive my manners, sir. I haven't thanked you for stepping in when you did.”

“All right,” he said. “Miiko just concerned. Very busy.” He let go of her as he swung the door open, a large creek emanating from it. He took a step back. “Go in now.”

Oratel gave him a little bow then walked inside. Just like the rest of the building, everything looked gigantic; the floor to ceiling bookshelves, the large pale-green tiles, even the room itself. A book stand stood several feet from the entrance, the large book resting atop it opened to a random page.

Jamon led Oratel deeper into the library. As they walked down one of the rows, Oratel couldn’t help but glance at the books next to her. They were all various sizes and colors. Letters she couldn’t read graced some of their spines, while others seemed to have no words at all.

Jamon called into the expansive room. A moment later, footsteps could be heard. Rounding a corner, a man showed up, a horn growing out of his head and a long, thin tail that moved this way and that sprouted from his backside. He walked to where Jamon and Oratel stood, giving her a curious glance. While she looked unconcerned, even bored, inside she couldn't help but wonder if everyone in this land had some sort of animal-like appendage.

The two men talked for a brief minute before Jamon left the way they came, shutting the door behind him with a loud thud. The horned man turned to her with an apologetic smile. “I take it you've had quite a time here, Miss, uh...”

“Oratel Sarasvan.” She held out a hand. “I take it you're Kero?”

He hesitated for a second before grasping Oratel's hand and giving it a shake. “Yes and no. 'Kero' is my nickname. 'Keroshane' is what I'm actually called.”

“Keroshane,” she repeated, more to herself than him. The name felt strange on her tongue.

“Would you like to sit down?” he asked, leading her to a couple of clothed armchairs behind him. “You look like you need some rest.”

“I would, thank you.” The cushion was worn from years of use, but it wasn't uncomfortable. “I assume you want to hear about my entry into your world, correct?”

Keroshane nodded as he took the other armchair. “Yes, that would suffice.”

Oratel crossed her legs and clasped her hands together, giving herself some time to gather her thoughts. A part of her was still shocked at these turn of events, still processing everything. Taking a deep breath, she began her tale.

* * *

Oratel rode atop a dutch warmblood, its fur glistening in the sun. Rounded stones laid out a path underneath her. Her traveling party followed close behind, a few others also on horseback, but most on foot. The brisk mountain breeze swept her breath away, even though it was nearing the summertime months. She thanked the heavens for the short winter.

“Your Highness!” a high pitched voice called. Oratel stilled her horse, allowing a young woman wearing a maid outfit to catch up to her. Between pants, she said, “I'm sorry for the sudden outburst, My Lady, but—”

Oratel flashed the women a friendly smile. “Let me guess, the servants would like to catch their breath?” she ventured.

The young woman nodded, her cheeks blushing from embarrassment.

Oratel looked ahead, eyeing the winding road. There was still a ways to go before they would reach the peak. Turning back to the maid, Oratel gestured her permission. Smiling in delight and relief, the servant girl rushed to a group of people trailing in the back to tell them the good news. A large, burly looking man riding in front of Oratel asked her if he should pass on her word, to which she agreed.

“Are you sure we should stop here?” spoke up the man that had been riding next to Oratel. He was a little older than her, but had yet to start showing the more obvious signs of aging. Several inches shorter than her, he had tawny beige skin with a rugged build. Clear green eyes were set in a rectangular face. His dirty-blond hair, normally curly and light, had been blown back by the wind. He was wearing a similar ensemble to Oratel's. “I've heard rumors telling of bandits targeting this area.”

“I can't tell our troops to hop to their feet, not when I've already given them my approval.” She dismounted her horse and looked up at her companion. “You should have spoken up sooner, Mavric.”

“I'll grant you that.” Mavric said as Oratel helped him off his horse. “I'll admit my head was floating along with the clouds.”

She stretched herself as she asked, “And what did the clouds tell you?”

“They had nothing of value to say, being full of air.”

Oratel reached over and lightly punched him on the shoulder. “Lame, Mavric,” she said, unable to hide her grin. “Surely you could do better than that?”

“Would that I could, if my mind wasn't so full of political jargon at the moment.” Sighing, he checked the saddle to make sure the buckle hadn't loosened. Absentmindedly, he added, “I hope our trip continues without happenstance.”

“Ah, and there's the worry wart!” Oratel leaned against her horse. “I was wondering where he went off to.”

Satisfied that the belt was still secure, Mavric turned back to her with a grave look. “I meant it when I heard that there were bandits, Oratel. I'm not one to tell tales just for sport.”

Crossing her arms, she replied, “I'm aware of that, but what could a couple of bandits do to a whole hoard of capable fighters?”

“Not all of us know how to swing a sword or use a shield properly,” he pointed out. Quieter, he added, “Our days of adventure have long since passed us and we're not as fit as we used to be, you know.”

She grimaced. “I don't need to you to tell me, Mavric,” she muttered, the wind sweeping her words away.

A commotion rose up behind them. One of the knights from the rear guard ran towards them, his features twisted in panic. Oratel immediately straightened up, her heart starting to beat faster.

“We're under attack!” he shouted.

In the blink of an eye, Mavric and Oratel were up on their horses again. “Kilvry, Quinn, escort the servants to the peak!” Oratel shouted, directing her horse back down the road. Mavric turned to the guard who had sound the alarm, the guard frantically explaining the situation. “Don't leave anyone behind, even if you have to carry them! Everett, ride to the front and let them know! Get some more hands if you can!”

As the knights went off to follow orders, Mavric caught her attention. “The rear guard counted twenty foot soldiers and seven archers, but he's not sure if that's accurate,” he explained in a hurry. The rush of servants thundered past the two monarchs, cries and anxiety thickening the air. “They're well equipped and have the latest armor.”

“This was planned,” she said with conviction, a scowl forming on her lips. “Tell the remaining men to ready themselves and prepare for the worst.” She started to lead her horse back down the road, but was intercepted by Mavric.

“You're not going.” He looked her straight in the eye. “Have you already forgotten what I said?”

“Mavric, now's not the time to test my patience,” she responded, glaring at her husband. “Let me pass or—”

“Or let you be killed?” he interrupted with a shake of his head. “Don't be foolish, Oratel. True, we weren't prepared for this, but our knights can handle themselves. Do you really have such little trust in them?”

Impatient, she snapped, “Don't talk of trust when you clearly don't have any for me! Now get out of my way and let me lead my men!”

A tense moment passed, in which the sounds of hardened steel on steel could be heard. After what felt like eons, Mavric gave a frustrated sigh. “I don't doubt your abilities as a queen, I've seen enough to know better. But as a fighter? That I have serious reservations about.”

Doing her best to calm herself down, she gave him a reassuring smile. “I'll come back to you in one piece, if that's what you're worried about. You have my word, dearest.”

Mavric frowned. “Oratel...” he trailed off, as if knowing that what he wanted to say would be a terrible idea. Instead, he gave a sigh of resignation. “Is your blade sharp?”

“Not as sharp as my temper.”

Mavric couldn't help but chuckle at that. “Now who's the lame one?” With that, he set off in the opposite direction that Oratel went.

It didn't take long for her to get to the fight. Swords glinting in the afternoon sun, the song of loose arrows filled the area, shouts and cries pounding against her eardrums. Above the noise, Oratel yelled, “What's our situation?”

A lone knight ran up to her, his armor already spotted red. Sweat pouring down his face, he answered, “Two of our men have already been slain and three are wounded. From what I can tell, our attackers fair no better.”

“Have any of the their men been killed or taken hostage?”

“I don't know about hostages, but four have been killed as far as I know.”

“Take at least one of these cowards alive,” she ordered as she dismounted from her horse again. “Gather up a group of abled men and send them to me.”

While the knight went to do her bidding, she surveyed the landscape. Not far from where she stood was a tiny path that snaked its way into a nearby forest. If she remembered this particular stretch of mountain range correctly, the path would eventually lead to a plateau. She had heard of deaths in this area due to falling rocks. It may be possible to—

An arrow plunged itself into her horse's neck. An earsplitting equine scream filled the air. The horse reared onto its hind legs then rode furiously down the path, leaving Oratel behind before she even understood what happened. Another arrow whipped by her, nearly catching her shoulder. She thought she heard a voice reprimand someone.

With a start, she realized that if they had wanted to shoot her, they would've done so sooner. It filled her with horror and, strangely, amusement. _So, they don't intend to kill me?_ she thought. _I should take some solace in that, but I shan't hedge my bets on them continuing to miss._

Thinking it best to forgo waiting for help, she ran to the nearby path and began to follow it. The sword attached to her hip thumped against her legs with each step. She had gotten about a third of the way up before she heard the crunch of twigs and snapping branches behind her. Gathering up her strength, she pushed her limbs to the brink of exhaustion. Shouts and running footsteps mixed in with the sounds of the forest.

Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it might leap out of her chest. Every inch of her body urged her to slow down, but her mind knew what might happen if she did.

Suddenly, she was seven again. Her pursuers were a group of loyal bodyguards, not enemy attackers. The rough terrain beneath her feet was flat and covered with grass instead of rocks. She was not running for her life, but for her freedom, for a chance to get away from the humdrum life of royalty. Back then, tears had ran down her face. In the here and now, the only thing running down her cheeks were beads of sweat.

She no longer felt the pain in her legs or feet, no longer felt scraggly branches nipping at her sides. All she wanted was some peace and quiet, some time alone, some time to rest her weary head and forget her troubles...

* * *

Silence entered the space between Keroshane and Oratel once she'd finished. Keroshane looked concerned and sympathetic. A few moments passed before either of them spoke. “Do you remember seeing anything out of place while you ran?”

Oratel shook her head. “My focus was on escape at the time, not on my surroundings.” Her throat felt raw, her mouth feeling like it was filled with cotton. She was used to talking for long bouts of time but she had struggled to keep her emotions in check throughout her tale.

Keroshane tapped a foot in thought. “You say that you were surrounded by light at one point?”

“Yes, I believe I mentioned it.” Her clasped hands gripped each other tighter. Shifting in her seat, she began to feel restless. She could feel the seconds passing her by. How was Mavric doing? Her loyal knights, her helpful servants? Her kingdom? Worry and fear threatened to overtake her. She pushed it aside with the assurance that she would be back home in no time. At least, she hoped she would.

“It sounds like you stepped into a witch's circle during your escape,” Keroshane commented. “However, without any more information to go on, I'm not sure if my guess is correct.”

“'Witch's circle...'” Oratel repeated. “If I go back into the room that I was transported to, would it be possible that I'd arrive back where I came?”

Keroshane shook his head, almost reluctantly. “I'm afraid not. Unfortunately, they only go one way.” More to himself, he muttered, “How one of them led to a protected area, I can only begin to guess.”

“In that case, I shall go and find one of these circles.” Her tone implied that she would hear no argument to the contrary. As if to underscore her words, she stood up and gave Keroshane a polite bow. “I thank you for your time and caring ear. If you would be so kind as to ask one of your fellow members to guide me—”

Keroshane quickly got to his feet. “Miss Oratel, I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do for you.”

“Nonsense,” she said, trying to brush him off. The tight fist of panic started to clench her heart. “Surely your people have the ability to get me back.”

“It isn't that we don't, it just isn't possible at this point in time.” Keroshane gently explained. He might as well have been talking to a brick wall.

“Well, then,” she said coolly. “I guess I'll have to find one of these circles on my own. Can you tell me what they look like?”

“Miss Oratel—”

“I cannot stay here!” she exclaimed. Fists clenched in anger, she continued, “Do you remember _nothing_ about my tale? My group was attacked by armed troops and I'm apparently missing, perhaps even dead! That's more than enough of an incentive for my husband to declare war! I _will_ return home and I won't listen to anymore of your thoughtless drivel!”

Turning on her heels, she started to walk to the library's entrance, a stammering Keroshane following close behind. If he said anything to her, she couldn't hear it over the buzzing of her own thoughts. She didn't know where her feet were taking her, only that she couldn't bear to stay still anymore. Action calmed her more than any kind of smooth talk ever did.

From outside the room, a voice called for Keroshane. In a flustered state, he implored her to stay in the library until he got back. He didn't even wait to hear if she would before bolting out through the entrance.

Oratel gazed out from behind the door. Her head felt fuzzy and her knees threatened to give out from underneath her. Just how exhausted was she?

Taking a deep breath, she exhaled her frustration. She itched to leave, but perhaps it would be a better idea to stay for now. Jamon had stood up for her and Keroshane had listened to her story. With any luck, other sympathetic souls would be willing to help her find one of these witch's circles.

Returning to her seat, she sat down wearily, letting out a sigh as she did. Her thoughts drifted back to Mavric. Maybe it was too much to bring back a living being, but what about a letter? At the very least, he needed to know she was unharmed.

With a start, she noticed that her cheeks were wet. _No,_ she thought with a groan, _not now, not here._ But her tears had other ideas. At first, they only came out one by one, but in no time, steady streams streaked her face. She removed her gloves with unsteady hands. Shaky breaths turned into heaving sobs as she buried her face in her hands. She didn't know why she was weeping, only that she was and she hated it.

For the first time in a while, she was crying with no one near to comfort her.


	3. A Guardian is Added

Keroshane ran down the stairs to an impatient Miiko, who was standing beneath the curtained pillars. With her stood Jamon, Nevra, and two other men. All of them looked solemn and the air around them was filled with tension.

“You really didn't find anything?” Miiko asked Nevra.

“Not even one little clue,” he replied. “Wherever he is, it isn't here.”

A sour look set upon her features. “Just what is he playing at...?” she trailed off in thought.

“You don't think he's got a plan involving the human, do you?” a blue-haired man with light skin asked.

“I don't see how,” a silver-haired man with brownish-beige skin replied. His muscular arms were crossed. “She just got here, Ezarel.”

“Then how do you explain it?” Ezarel shot back.

Keroshane walked until he stood next to Miiko. Noticing that he was alone, she asked crossly, “You left her behind?”

“I didn't have a choice,” Keroshane said defensively. “And I didn't hear her walking behind me, so she should still be in there. In any case, I have a report for you.” He offered Miiko a brief summary of Oratel’s story, concluding with, “I believe she's telling the truth, Miiko. From what little I could glean, she certainly has the mannerisms one would attribute to a queen.”

“It wouldn't seem like a lie if she fancies herself a queen,” Ezarel remarked, interrupting his argument with Valkyon. An amused smile formed on his lips. “Delusions are a powerful thing.”

Keroshane frowned. “It didn't seem like mere arrogance to me.”

“She doesn't act like any queen I've ever heard about,” Nevra interjected. “I've met harpies with better manners than her.”

“You've met her?” Valkyon asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Bumped into her is more like it.”

While the men talked about the newcomer, Miiko pondered what her next course of action should be. Upon reaching a conclusion, she spoke up. “If she did make up her tale, she's a very persuasive fibber, I'll give her that much.” Turning to Keroshane, she said, “Kero, I'll see her now. Ezarel, get him up to speed on the masked man.” She let out a small sigh. “It's high time I talked with our new 'queen.'”

* * *

Her eyes now dry, Oratel was reading through the book on the stand. Although, try as she might, she couldn't read any of it. The characters didn't match up with any preexisting language that she was aware of. Thankfully, this particular book had illustrations, very detailed and colorful ones at that. From these, she deduced that the book was about various species of wildlife. The prospect of unknown information tantalized her. Deep down, the part of her that craved knowledge demanded her to try harder to decipher the text.

A loud creek filled the room. Turning around, she saw the doors swinging open as Miiko stepped in, her face betraying no emotion. Oratel matched the vixen's expression.

“Kero gave me a report about your situation,” Miiko started, her voice carefully controlled. “I hear you're in a bit of a tight spot.”

“That's one way to describe it.” Oratel crossed her arms and met Miiko's gaze. “One might even call it an understatement.”

“Don't you start getting smart with me,” Miiko warned. “I came here to discuss what your options are, not to begin another fight.”

Miiko took Oratel's silence to mean that she was willing to cooperate. Thankful for the respite from her sharp tongue, Miiko continued. “I can't let you go out exploring Eldarya with one of the members from our guard. To be frank, I don't trust you enough to let you go wherever you please. It may not seem like it, but we don't have as many people on board as we would like. We're in a time of crisis and need all the help we can get.”

At this, Oratel subtly straightened her posture. “What kind of crisis do you mean, exactly?”

“That isn't any of your business,” Miiko curtly replied. “The point is, I'm having you join one of our guards.” When Oratel started to protest, Miiko held up a hand to silence her. “Before you bite my head off, let me explain. You're judgment during a time of stress was what convinced me. Not only that, but we'd be able to keep track of you and you'll be able to find a witch's circle while you help us oversee Eldarya.”

“How can I be of any help when I know nothing about your land?” Oratel pointed out. “Don't tell me you expect an outsider like myself to suddenly know everything.”

“I don't.” Miiko passed Oratel and stood beside the book stand. She rested a hand on the open pages. “However, something tells me you're eager to learn.”

“I'm merely curious, is all,” Oratel said flatly while mentally cursing at herself. “I wouldn't be so churlish as to imply that nothing about this world piques my interest.” She stared into Miiko's eyes. “Don't mistake interest as an intent to settle down. I already have a home and it isn't here.”

Shutting the book with a loud slap, Miiko's eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “Enough with your homesick blabber, already!” she snapped. “We understand that you're distressed, but there's _nothing_ we can do to help, unless you're deaf as well as blind!”

Bristling, Oratel retorted, “I can see perfectly well, Miss Miiko. And what I see is an arrogant, headstrong, ill-tempered fool who only thinks about herself!”

The flames in the bird cage rose to great heights before connecting with Miiko's free hand. “ _I'm_ selfish?!” Miiko cried, her expression twisted in fury. “How dare you call me that when the only thing I've been hearing from you ever since you got here is nothing _but_ a selfish request! We've told you time and time again that we can't bring you home but you continue to whine and complain about how you need to get back, that Eldarya isn't good enough for you, that—”

“Don't twist my words around, you bullheaded wench!” Oratel protested, fists clenched, eyes ablaze. “I said no such thing!”

“You didn't need to,” Miiko growled. “You're joining the Guard of El and that's that! I'll hear no more arguments from you and you better be on your best behavior before I change my mind and have Jamon lock you in that cell again!” Having said her piece, Miiko walked out of the library briskly, the sound of the door slamming behind.

Unable to stand still, Oratel started pacing around the book's stand, fuming. Dark thoughts raced around her mind as she tried calming herself down. She needed to think rationally on how to go about reaching her goal while also going along with the stubborn vixen's orders. As much as she hated to admit it, Miiko had a good point about joining one of the Guards. An opportunity to search for one of those circles while having a guide was her only option at this point. What sense would it make to pass up this opportunity?

A few minutes later, the door opened yet again. Keroshane walked in, a tentative expression on his face. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he had just seen Miiko. “Miss Oratel? I realize that you're upset, but it would be for the best if we figured out which Guard to place you in sooner rather than later.” He laid a hand on her shoulder, with a gentle smile.

Oratel gave him a vague gesture of agreement while shaking his hand off of her. She didn't trust herself to say anything just yet, not until her temper had cooled down more.

Keroshane lead her back to where they had previously sat. Along the way, Keroshane's horn started emanating a slight glow. Off in the distance, the sound of a book unshelving itself could be heard. Moments later, a reddish-pink book with slim gold trimming came into view. The book settled itself into Keroshane's outstretched hand, as if it belong there. His horn dimmed as he flipped through the pages.

“What a handy trick,” Oratel commented, unable to stop herself.

A small smile graced Keroshane's countenance. “It isn't always accurate, unfortunately, but it is a big help.”

Arriving at their destination, the two of them made themselves comfortable on the armchairs once again. Keroshane gave a summary of each of the Guards functions before explaining how the test worked, Oratel listening intently all the while.

“And that's how it's done,” Keroshane finished. “Do you have any questions before we begin?”

Oratel shook her head. While she did have questions, they mainly pertained to why the test was strictly multiple choice and nothing else. Memories of various hearings and trials to find the perfect Standing King flitted through her mind. An involuntary smile formed as a familiar feeling of overwhelming boredom washed over her. She recalled one candidate who wouldn't stop talking about their various exploits, no matter how irrelevant the stories were.

Belatedly, she realized that Keroshane was speaking. “Should I start?” he asked.

Returning to the present, Oratel nodded. “Go ahead.”

A back and forth of questions and answers began. Some of them were fairly simple, while others left her puzzled. It was clear that this test was for long-standing residents. How in the world did he expect fair results when she barely understood half of what he was saying? Regardless, she did her best to answer as accurately as she could. When the questions had been exhausted, a silence feel between the two as he counted her score.

Within the comfortable silence, Oratel blurted out, “Tell me, Mister Keroshane, is your leader always in such a foul mood? I can only begin to guess how much of a headache being under her leadership can be.”

Keroshane looked up from the paper he had scribbled her answers down on. He turned pensive for a moment before replying. “I'll admit that she... isn't the easiest person to deal with. However, she was given the most important role of the Guard for a reason. Plus, we're in a very stressful situation. That's definitely brought out the worst in her.” Giving her a reassuring smile, he added, “All I can ask for is your patience. You'll see why she's our leader in due time.”

Oratel didn't respond. She didn't entirely buy his explanation, but then again, he knew Miiko better than she did.

Keroshane finished tallying up her results before consulting the book. Staring at Oratel, he said, “According to your score, the best Guard for you would be the Shadow Guard.”

“Shadow Guard...” she repeated slowly, trying to remember where she had heard that before. “I believe that the black-haired man with the eye-patch said he was the leader of that Guard.”

“That would be Nevra,” Keroshane stated, shutting the book. His horn began to glow again, the book drifting off into the depths of the library to be stored for another day. “He's a good leader, even if he can't keep to himself most of the time.”

“I received some of his flirtations earlier today.” Oratel's legs were crossed, her hands holding each other and resting on her knees. The foot that wasn't on the floor started to jiggle, as though it was restless. “Forgive me, but I don't think that test is a very good one if people like him and that vixen can be considered good leaders.”

Keroshane shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. “I understand your misgivings, but I don't think it's fair for you to judge when you haven't seen them in action.”

Sighing, Oratel conceded, “You're quite right. It's been a long day, and my emotions have been given a run for their money.” She gave him a tired smile. “I realize that's no excuse for my behavior. My apologies, I meant no offense.”

“You don't need to apologize.” Keroshane stood up and gestured for her to follow him. “There's a couple more things you and I need to do before we get you settled down. Once that's finished, you can rest.”

“I look forward to it,” she said, genuinely appreciative.

* * *

“You can't be serious.” Nevra frowned as he processed what Keroshane had just told him. The both of them- along with Ezarel, Valkyon, and Oratel- were in the Crystal Room. Miiko was surveying the exchange. “I'm going to have to deal with the human?”

“Until we can figure out a way to send her back, then yes,” Keroshane confirmed. “She isn't all that happy with the arrangement herself.”

Ezarel was grinning with relief. “Seeing as I don't have to deal with her, I’m fine with letting Nevra shoulder the burden.”

“Wipe that grin off your face, elf,” Nevra grumbled.

“She either joins a Guard or is placed in the Refuge,” Miiko said. “And something tells me she wouldn't stay put in one of those huts.”

“You sure she wouldn't be better placed in one of the other Guards? She wasn't exactly subtle when she escaped her cell,” he pointed out.

“Don't tell me you're afraid of a lone human,” Ezarel said with mock surprise. “Are you scared she'll drive a stake through your heart during the night?”

Nevra snorted. “You wish, Ezarel.”

“I hope you two realize I'm standing right next you,” Oratel interjected. Her arms were crossed, a finger tapping out an impatient rhythm. “Or are you just that forgetful?”

“I don't remember every little detail on a painting,” Ezarel replied. “Same thing goes with humans.”

“In any case,” Miiko interrupted, speaking a little louder this time. “she will stay here. Nevra, I leave her care in your hands. I expect you to keep watch over her the most, but everyone shares the responsibility of making sure she doesn't escape. Have I made myself clear?”

Nevra, Ezarel, Valkyon, and Keroshane gave their assent.

“Good.” Miiko started to walk out of the room. “Oratel, follow me. I'll lead you to your room.”

Half of Oratel wanted to stay put, to refuse her invitation. A room would simply reaffirm the fact that she was stuck here. It meant that her captors— for she refused to see them as comrades— had won. It meant that she was wasting time cooperating when she should be searching for a portal back home. It meant that this was her reality now; living with a bunch of strangers who outright didn't want her here. It meant she had given up and much more.

However, the other half of her, the one that craved a place to lay her head down, was louder.

Reluctantly, she walked out of the Crystal Room once more, trailing behind Miiko. Maroon wooden doors a few feet taller than herself lined the passageway. Each one had a unique golden design; some of them even had a gem embedded in the gold. In the center of the door's frame was some sort of decoration, such as the head of an animal or a flower or intricate shape.

They hadn't walked very far when Miiko stopped at one of them. Oratel couldn't make out the motif on this one and the frame was empty. While there was a lock, Miiko didn't look for any key to insert into it. Instead, she turned the handle and opened the door, stepping aside as she did. Oratel walked into the room only to stop dead in her tracks.

It was barren. Completely bereft of any personality, unless homeliness could be counted as one. An empty bedframe sat in the center, a lone grayish-white sheet haphazardly placed over it. An open wooden crate was nestled next to the bedframe. Above that was a shelf that had been engraved into the wall, a lonely used candle sitting on it. A wooden shelf holding a clay jug oversaw the room. The only saving grace was the large window embedded into the farthest wall. Outside the window, Oratel could see a few stars trying to shine their light down upon the world.

“Are there any problems?” Oratel could have sworn she heard an undercurrent of petty amusement in the vixen's tone.

Turning around to face Miiko, Oratel hid the burning anger she felt behind a pleasant smile. “None at all.”


	4. Unwanted Adjustment

A soft light shone through the window, dust motes floating in the still air. Oratel stood in her undergarments next to the barely furnished bed, yesterday's jacket in her hands. She had taken off her traveling clothes and was fingering her family's crest on the breast pocket, inspecting the intricate stitching as she did; a simple gray shield made up the background. Sewed on top of it were two birds; a dove and a crow. They were looking away from each. In the the dove's grip was a branch of Gold Spear Brush- a near black type of wood with glowing yellow leaves. In the crow's claws was an arrow. Above the birds was an off-white ribbon, black text in ancient writing stating the kingdom's motto.

“'Those that rule must know their ruling,'” Oratel whispered to no one. She still remembered a time when those words had confused her. The image of herself as a young girl resurfaced, showing her pouring over a large book that explained a small portion of her kingdom's history. How she longed to be that young again, without a care in the world...

She shook her head. There was no point in getting lost in her own nostalgia. The helpless princess had grown into a strong-willed queen. A time for reflection could be postponed until she was on her deathbed.

When she had awoken earlier that morning, she'd found a pile of folded clothing placed on the inside of her door. Sometime during the night or before dawn, someone had opened her door and left them there. She disliked the idea of putting on the black jacket, icy blue top, and matching shorts, but at least she'd no longer need to wear yesterday's outfit.

Once she finished changing, she reluctantly folded the old ones and placed them in the open crate. Walking out of her room and into the corridor, she closed the door behind her. She took a couple steps forward before stopping. Where would she go? She only had the vaguest idea as to the layout of this building and she didn't trust herself to not get lost. Yet, she couldn't stay here and meekly wait until someone showed up.

Picking the direction she did know, she strolled down the carpet, resisting the urge to inspect the designs on the hallway's doors. They could give her some inspiration as to a new crest design. She had contemplated updating it for some time, but all the effort and coin that would go into introducing the change seemed like more trouble than it was worth. Plus, this particular crest was several decades- even centuries- older than herself. If there was one thing she understood about human nature it was the innate distaste of drastic changes.

The sound of her footsteps changed from muffled to loud as she went from carpet to stone. Before she realized it, her legs had taken her to the main room. She blinked in surprise, taking in her surroundings. Underneath the library's entrance was an open door frame. From it wafted the smell of food. Her stomach growled at the thought of having a bite to eat. Unable to remember when she had last eaten, she walked to the doorway and down the small set of stairs that led towards the mouth-watering aroma. The first thing that caught her eye was a honeycomb shaped food container, a set of movable steps in front of it. Behind the container was a wooden table with wheels of cheese place on its surface. In the back was a multicolored door set into some rock. Shelves of food lined the walls, a hook with a hanging limb of ham in front of one of them. To her right was another table with miscellaneous foodstuffs already spread out, some chairs arranged around its edges. Beyond that was another room, most likely meant for storage.

From that room walked out Keroshane, holding a glass bottle of some liquid and a plate of bread, cheese, and a bit of meat. When he noticed Oratel, he paused while on his way to one of the shelves. “Ah, Miss Oratel, I didn't realize you were up or I would've invited you to breakfast.”

“I haven't been awake for long, Mister Keroshane.” She flashed him a small smile. “Though I would not say no to a hearty meal.”

Keroshane left the room then returned shortly thereafter, the plate missing. He invited Oratel to follow him. When they walked into the storage room, she saw that two columns of shelves filled the place with little space inbetween them to walk down. Keroshane explained how they sorted everything. When he told her they were rationing, Oratel instantly became more alert.

“Mister Keroshane, the vixen mentioned something about a crisis yesterday,” she started evenly, as quiet as a whisper. She had a feeling she was treading into personal territory, but she wanted an answer. “Could it be you're at war?”

He hesitated before answering. “We were at war, but that's not the reason we're rationing.”

Oratel waited for him to continue, but he didn't. Deciding not to press the subject, she grabbed a bit of ham, bread, and water, then followed Keroshane further into the storage area. She was confused as to why when she noticed another doorway at the back. They stepped into another room, presumably the dining hall, based on the round tables and open kitchen attached to it. Keroshane and Oratel weaved through the wooden tables and chairs. At one point, Oratel had to duck to avoid crashing into a suspended ball of sky blue light. They finally arrived at a table situated next to a window only to find a blue-haired inhabitant. He was currently munching away at a small loaf of bread, a familiar plate in front of him.

“Ezarel, you realize that was my share, right?” Keroshane asked wearily.

“This is yours?” Ezarel spoke through a bite of bread. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have taken it. I assumed it was for the human.”

“There are better ways to hector me than stealing my meals,” Oratel said evenly, though the flames of her temper kindled. “Considering you lead a guard, I'd have figured you were more clever than that. If you want to do it properly-” She walked to where Ezarel sat, picked up Keroshane's plate, and set hers down in its place, returning the original to its rightful owner. Looking over her shoulder, she glared at Ezarel. “I have a name, elf.” Before either of them could respond, Oratel quickly left the room.

“Huh,” Ezarel said, interrupting the tense silence. “Wonder what's wrong with her.” He continued his meal as though nothing had happened.

After frowning at Ezarel, Keroshane placed his plate back down onto the table and rushed out of the room. He didn't have to look long to find Oratel as she was pacing around the table of foodstuffs in the pantry. He walked up to her, saying gently, “There was no need for that, though I appreciate the effort. Ezarel was just—”

“Being a child,” Oratel shot at him. “Acting like a spoiled brat, he was. I've met enough arrogant kings and queens to know what one looks like.”

“Oratel—” Keroshane started, but soon stopped himself. He wasn't entirely sure what to say, if anything at all. Trying again, he said, “I understand all of this is overwhelming, but we need you to cooperate with us. Fighting against us won't do you any good. It'll take you longer to get home, in fact.”

Oratel abruptly stopped her pacing, sighing as she did. “I guess I acted like a child myself.” Turning to Keroshane, she added. “I am sorry for interfering. It seems as though my patience has been continuously tried ever since I got here.”

Keroshane gave her a small smile. “All's forgiven. I can only imagine what being in your situation must be like.”

She followed Keroshane back to the dining hall in silence while doing her best to tether her temper. If she was going to get through this at all, she needed to act civil, even during times when her captors might treat her terribly. In her head, she repeated certain phrases that had been pounded into her since childhood, ones that dictated how a monarch should act at all times. By the time she returned to the dining hall, she had calmed down considerably.

Oratel ate a newly crafted meal while exchanging pleasantries with Keroshane and Ezarel, the latter of whom continued to pluck at her string-thin patience. She did her best to ignore him, succeeding most of the time while barely hiding her irritation. Eventually, Nevra and Valkyon joined them. Nevra took a seat opposite of Oratel while Valkyon sat next to Ezarel.

“How's the room?” Nevra asked with a knowing smile.

“It is pleasant enough,” Oratel replied. “If you're a rat, I suppose.”

Keroshane's brows furrowed in puzzlement. “Would you care to explain?”

“What needs to be explained?” Ezarel swallowed the bite of ham he'd been chewing. “You know Miiko, always giving the greenhorns the shaft.”

In an instant, Keroshane knew what he meant. “She didn't give you bed, did she?”

“It's a bed, in that there is a frame and a sheet.” Having finished her meal, Oratel rose from her seat, plate and utensils in hand. “Who does the cleaning?”

“It changes every day.” Keroshane stood as well. “I'll show you where we put the used dishes.”

Oratel followed him to the kitchen. Once she was out of sight, Valkyon spoke. “She's a strange one.”

“I'll say,” Nevra mumbled. “Just what does Miiko think she's doing? As if a human could do what the average Guardian does on a daily basis.”

“At least she's not in Obsidian,” Valkyon said. “She doesn't strike me as the type of person who could wield a weapon.”

“But of course! What proper 'queen' would lower herself to commoner status?” Ezarel joked.

“Any queen worth her salt would know the hardships that being one of lower standing can bring.” Without knowing it, Oratel was back at the table. “While it's true a queen such as myself is a rare breed, we do exist.”

“Well, obviously,” Nevra stated. “You wouldn't be standing in front of us if that weren't the case.”

She want to groan in exasperation, but she refused to show her inner thoughts to the people in front of her. Instead, she ignored his comment and asked lightly, “You are the leader of the Shadow Guard, correct? I assume you must have some missions in mind for me.”

Nevra stood, saying, “Don't have anything for you at present. Nothing you could handle, anyway, but we could go for a little rendezvous in my bedroom.” He winked.

A flurry of insults and retorts formed on Oratel's tongue. She swallowed all of them. What was it with these people and their incessant need to push her buttons? “I know I may not be the most intimidating individual, but I can hold my own in a fight.”

At this, Valkyon remarked, “Maybe against another human, but not the kinds of creatures we deal with.”

Oratel couldn't fault his logic, but she felt the need to make her case. “'Tis true I know not what this world holds, but you cannot keep me sheltered here forever. I highly doubt the vixen would encourage it.” _In fact, I'm sure she'd like to see me mauled or worse._

Ezarel's eyebrows raised in amusement. “'Vixen?' Can't say I've ever heard someone call her that. Not to her face, at any rate.”

Keroshane appeared, interrupting their conversation. “If Nevra doesn't have anything for you, I could use some help in the library.”

* * *

Carrying a stack of books, Oratel headed to a shelf that was far removed from the library's entrance. Keroshane's brief explanation of how they sorted everything still rattled around in her head. She had never heard of such a needlessly complicated system. However, she was in no spot to judge the way they did things. She was merely an observer. That was all.

Hushed noises of other members trying to find information filled the library. Thankfully, she hadn't run into anyone new yet, a feat she attributed to the sheer magnitude of the place.

Her long and quick strides brought her to her destination in a short time. She started placing the books back where they belonged, unable to stop herself from absorbing the look and feel of each one.

One of the books on her stack dropped onto the floor with a loud thud. She bent to pick it up when she noticed that it had fallen open. At first, she didn't think anything of it until she caught some of the writing. Eyes wide, she sunk to her knees, placing the rest of the stack beside her. Gingerly, as though it was a priceless artifact, she picked up the thick book and stared at the characters.

She could read it; every single word. Tears of relief pricked at her eyes. The knowledge that there was something familiar to her here reassured her immensely. She took it as sign that she would definitely return home, even if she didn't know how or when.

Resisting the urge to continue reading, she closed the book, picked up the stack, and returned to placing them to their correct positions, her spirit having regained a renewed strength.

* * *

Ykhar's eyes passed over titles faster than she could read them. Which book was she supposed to get again? Miiko had requested it, but in her haste, she had barely heard what her leader had said. Nerves on edge, she hesitated between going back to clarify or letting blind luck do the work for her. She started to wring her hands, torn between each choice. The image of Miiko standing before her in annoyance and impatience made her stay, but the other picture of Miiko chastising her almost made her move. Lost in thought, she didn't realize the pile of books in front of her.

She tripped and began to fall head over heels, her arms flailing around her, trying to grasp anything sturdy. Instead of a shelf, a hand alighted on another book, her momentum ripping it out of its perch. Unfortunately, someone had stuffed that particular shelf as much as they could, leading to a veritable avalanche. In the blink of eye, Yhkar found herself buried under a pile of novels, biological studies, nature guides, and anything else that could be put into words.

Her keen ears heard the sound of boots against title. A blush was already forming on her face. Just her luck that Ezarel or Nevra was around to spot her humiliation. Well, she wasn't going to give either of them the satisfaction of making fun of her little spill. Pushing the books to the side, she did her best to untangle herself from the pile.

“Are you not hurt?” came a smooth, cool voice. It reminded her of water dripping off of glass. Ah, good, so it wasn't the elf or vampire.

“I-I'm fine,” Yhkar stammered. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw an outstretched hand. Grasping it, she kept her gaze locked onto the floor. She smoothed down her grass green skirt, giving herself time to let the blush leave her cheeks. Once she felt the warmth go away, she finally looked at her helper. Recognition jogged her memory. “Oh, you're the new recruit!”

“That I am.” Oratel gave her a small smile.

“It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Yhkar,” she said cheerfully, returning Oratel's smile. “Thanks for helping me, by the way. I thought you were someone else at first.”

“It's no trouble,” Oratel said. “I was returning some books to where they should be and I happened to hear a loud noise. Are you looking for one?”

“Um, yeah, I am, but I don't know just what I'm looking for,” Yhkar admitted. She shuffled from side to side sheepishly. “Miiko asked me to get something and I didn't wait long enough to hear what she wanted.”

“You can go back and ask her. There should be no harm in that,” Oratel offered. Immediately after saying that, she had a hunch that that was a bad idea. And, from Yhkar's thinly veiled look of panic, she knew she was right.

“I-It's okay,” Yhkar said, giving a nervous laugh. “Miiko's fairly predictable when it comes to these things.”

“I shall take your word for it.” Oratel started to turn around when she heard Yhkar call out to her to wait. Oratel looked back at the rabbit.

Curiosity and enthusiasm virtually poured out of Ykhar. “I hear that you've referred to yourself as a queen multiple times. Are you really a queen?”

“I am that, yes, though it seems no one truly believes me.”

The rabbit gave a little squeal of delight. “Oh, I've always wanted to meet a real queen! What's it like, ruling over your very own kingdom? I can only imagine how fun it must be to visit other monarchs and enjoy various balls and social gatherings. Are there many striking princes? How about the ladies of the court, are they all as catty as they are in the books? Tell me, does your country have a lot of—”

“Forgive the interruption, but shouldn't you be finding something for the vi... Miiko?” Oratel asked firmly. She should probably stop referring to that fox woman as “vixen".

If Yhkar had heard her, she didn't respond. She made a noise of alarm before starting to babble. Oratel knew she was still speaking a language she could understand, but the exact meaning of the rabbit's words eluded her.

Yhkar abruptly stopped her ramblings then apologized to Oratel before bounding off into the opposite direction that she had been going. It wasn't until she was gone when Oratel finally realized that Yhkar had rabbit ears growing from her head. And she hadn't questioned it in the slightest.

 _Nothing about the people here surprises me anymore,_ she thought, a chill of horror crawling up her spine. She took a deep breath. _There's no reason for panic. Yes, it does mean that I'm getting used to this place. However, that is not proof that I've formed an attachment to this world. As long as I can distance myself from everyone here, I'll be fine._


	5. Stubborn Pride

Oratel followed Keroshane out of the library. It was around the time for Guard members to have lunch. She was thankful for the break; both of them had spent a better part of the morning dealing with the large catalogue of books that they owned. It didn't help that people were constantly coming in and out, leaving various items behind or simply not bothering to put a borrowed book back. Not that she blamed them. Even though she had stopped to ask Keroshane for clarification every now and then, she still didn't completely understand their way of organization. It got to the point where a headache threatened to form.

As her feet ached and legs protested her continued movement, she longed for a chair. She hadn't stopped to catch her breath for a moment. It was in her best interest to play as the dutiful servant for now. After her behavior yesterday and this morning, she figured her captors would respond better to a prisoner who didn't complain.

An argument greeted Oratel and Keroshane at the entrance to the pantry. Nevra and Ezarel were glaring at each other over the cheese table, eyes locked. The vampire shoved a piece of faded parchment at the elf, as if brandishing damning evidence at a trial.

“I had my share, Ezarel!” Nevra snapped. “What about you? Apparently you stole Kero's portion this morning. Getting a little greedy, aren't you?”

“It was a prank on the human, nothing more,” Ezarel responded flatly.

“By eating someone else's food?” Nevra jeered. “Great logic there, elf.”

“What seems to be the problem?” Keroshane stepped into the pantry, inserting himself into the conversation. “Is someone stealing your rations, Nevra?”

“Damn right, they did!” Nevra waved the parchment at Keroshane. “I haven't had my portion of bread yet, but it isn't where it should be.” He gave Ezarel a harsh glance. “I bet you anything that this elf had something to do with it!”

“On what grounds, exactly?” Ezarel responded, hiding his irritation behind a grin. “If anyone could benefit from added portions it's Mr. Unicorn.”

Keroshane frowned. “I ask that you don't include me in your argument.”

“You're Guard leaders, are you not?” Oratel asked politely. She was growing quite tired of the never-ending immaturity everyone in this place seemed to possess. “Surely you both have more important matters to attend to than some mindless squabble.”

“This isn't any of your business, sweetcheeks,” Nevra retorted.

Keroshane cleared his throat in a hesitant manner. “In all honesty, I think Oratel has some stake in this too, Nevra. She is a member of the Guard of El now and is under the same restrictions and limitations that the rest of us are. Even more so, considering her particular situation. Stolen rations could harm not just you, but the rest of us as well, Oratel included.”

Nevra grimaced as if he had swallowed something bitter. Ezarel snatched the parchment from Nevra and placed it back on the spot of wall where it had been.

“We could go look for it,” Ezarel offered. The tension in the room started to thin.

“I've got more pressing matters than looking for a simple loaf of bread.” Nevra walked towards the doorway. He looked at Oratel and Keroshane. “You two don't look like you're doing anything much. Why don't you go look for it?”

“I refuse,” Oratel said tersely. “Weren't you the one that was making such a fuss about it not two seconds ago? If you want it so badly, search for it yourself.”

“What, afraid of getting yourself a little dirty, princess? Oh, I'm sorry, I mean 'queen,'” Nevra corrected himself, not sounding the least bit apologetic.

Oratel resisted the urge to give him a biting glare. Instead, she looked directly in front of her and said in a dark whisper, “Don't waste your breath apologizing when you clearly don't mean it, you shameless bedswerver.”

Nevra whistled. “Can't say I've ever been called that before.” In the next moment, he had disappeared.

“I'd love to help, but I've got some potions to brew.” Ezarel stepped out of the pantry hastily, as if sensing an oncoming storm.

The pressure of the air suddenly increased significantly, making Keroshane cough in awkwardness. “Yes, uh, well then,” he said weakly. “Shall we start our search?”

Oratel didn't move for a moment. Her frame shook with suppressed rage. She could take Ezarel's antics. They were very mild to some of the nasty tricks a spiteful servant had done to her in the past. But she couldn't stand the vampire's thoughtless comments and jabs any longer. Hadn't he noticed the ring on her finger this morning?

She stormed up the pantry's steps, took a deep breath, and shouted into the large entrance hall, “I'm _married_ , you foolish, arrogant braggart!” A couple of passing Guard members stopped in their tracks to stare at her curiously before continuing about their day.

Turning sharply back to Keroshane, who looked very uneasy, she said surly, “Stop standing around like a stick in the briers, Mister Keroshane. There is some bread that needs finding, correct?”

* * *

She was glad to feel the sun on her face, even if it meant more walking. The warmth and comfort she felt from its light restored a bit of her energy. A slight pang of hunger was making itself known, but she would endure it. Hopefully, this business with the stolen bread would be over with shortly enough.

As she waited for Keroshane to get back from visiting the vixen, she fiddled with the bracelet on her wrist. How long had it been since she first received it? Ten years? Two decades? Maybe even more than that. And yet the hair that it was made out of wasn't stiff or brittle, as though it had been freshly cut just yesterday. In the recess of her memories, a strange being was braiding the bracelet. Once finished, they placed it in a goblet of some kind then held their hands over the rim. Their mouth moved, but no sound came out. While Oratel knew the creature had a voice, it had been so long since that moment that she could no longer remember what they sounded like.

She looked at the gift in wistful thought. The last time she had seen Illiath was during her own coronation ball. Illiath had stopped by for a short period of time to give Oratel her best wishes and explain her plans for the future.

A stab of regret shot through Oratel. She had done a horrible thing to her friend, even though she hadn't known it at the time. The memory of Illiath's assurance did nothing to assuage her guilt. Even now, all these years later, it still pained her.

“Oratel?”

She whipped her head around to face Keroshane, who had suddenly appeared next to her. Noticing her startled look, he gave her an apologetic smile. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to give you a fright. I figured Miiko would like to know that you won't be in H.Q. for the time being and that you've got someone to guide you.”

Oratel only nodded, gathering up her scattered wits.

The two of them followed the white concrete walkway into town, Oratel being guided by Keroshane. She didn't know what to expect when she got there, but that didn't lessen the curiosity she felt when they arrived. Tall buildings of various shapes and sizes lined wide streets that looked oddly clean. While she had gotten used to seeing people with animalistic features, she couldn't help but be shocked and surprised when she saw bipedal mammals. One of them was an orange tiger cat with bandages on his limbs and tail. Large mismatched eyes were set in a pointed face. He carried a purplish-gold bindle on a stick. What startled her the most was his height; he was about the size of an average human.

“Ah, Purral!” Keroshane called, waving down the cat who was currently speaking to a person with antelope-like horns on their head. The cat saw Keroshane and waved back with a white paw.

“Just a moment,” he called back, “lemme finish this sale, then I'll get to ya.”

“I'm not here to buy or sell anything,” Keroshane quickly corrected. “I've been tasked-”

“Quite rudely,” Oratel inputted, under her breath.

“I've been tasked with finding some stolen rations, a loaf of bread to be more specific,” Keroshane finished, ignoring Oratel's little remark. “Did you see anyone run by here carrying something like that?”

The cat apparently named Purral dismissed his customer, the antelope horned being giving the cat a curt nod before walking off.

“When are we talkin'?” Purral asked.

Keroshane looked pensive for a moment before answering. “A few hours ago, let's say four at most.”

It was Purral's turn to look thoughtful. The noise of passersby and vehicles moving filled the silence between the two. Finally, Purral shook his head. “'Fraid I can't help ya, chum. Must've been too busy a-hagglin' to be payin' attention to anythin' of that sort.”

“That's fine,” Keroshane said, offering a reassuring smile. “Thank you anyways.”

“So, when are ya plannin' on introducin' me to your little friend?” Purral asked, looking at Oratel.

“I can introduce myself perfectly well,” Oratel replied, a polite smile turning the corner of her lips. “Truth be told, I don't see why I'd interest you, sir. A simple human couldn't hope to stand a chance against a talking cat who walks on its hind legs.”

A twinkle of humor lit Purral's eyes. “You ain't no ordinary human, I can tell that much. Mind givin' me your name?”

“Oratel Sarasvan, sir.” Her hand automatically moved before she realized that Purral had no hands to shake or fingers to grasp.

Purral gave a chuckle, a throaty and scratchy sound, like he had eaten some gravel beforehand. “Can't say I've seen someone do that in a long time.” He patted Oratel's head a couple times before moving along. “See ya, girlie.” In the blink of an eye, he was gone, the crowds swallowing him up.

* * *

The two of them continued their search for witnesses, though Oratel considered herself more of a hindrance than a help. For one thing, it was Keroshane who did almost all of the talking, simply because he knew the inhabitants and how to handle them. He also pointed out important landmarks and locations she should memorize in case she got lost and needed shelter. Eventually, Oratel voiced her concerns to her guide.

“Mister Keroshane,” she started slowly. “I cannot help but feel as though I'm slowing you down. Would it not be easier for you to search alone?” The two of them were walking along a brick road that had tents and a variety of attractions. She had heard this place referred to as the Market.

Keroshane turned to Oratel after swallowing a spoonful of soup. They had stopped for a bite to eat when they realized the search would take longer than they had suspected. Thankfully, Keroshane had thought ahead and brought some coins along with him, what he called Maana. They had visited one of the food stalls and bought a very simple meal of Dragonfly Fish soup. Making their way to the food court, they had managed to find a vacant table and made themselves comfortable.

He frowned at her. “I disagree with you,” he said gently. “I understand your concern, but letting you go back alone and empty handed could create more problems than it solves. For one thing, I told Miiko I'd be with you at all times. For another, if you find the missing rations, you'll be able to gain some esteem with her, as well.”

“I bet that even if I was somehow able to give her a necklace of fallen stars on a chain of moonlight, she'd still regard me as nothing more than a misbehaving dog that should be put up with,” Oratel angrily muttered. She stirred the soup around in its bowl. It smelled fairly delicious, but two sips of the stuff were enough to make her stomach start churning unpleasantly. She couldn't figure out why. The food she ate earlier had agreed with her, why wasn't this?

Keroshane looked uncomfortable, but offered no rebuttal, leaving her to wonder if he was finally seeing the truth about his leader. _No,_ she thought with a shake of her head, _that would be next to impossible._

Her head swam like a fish that had been caught in a vicious current. Letting her spoon drop to the bottom of her bowl, she rested her head on one hand. She was beginning to feel light-headed and, most alarmingly, slightly feverish. Should she tell him she felt ill? The stubborn part of her told her no, the logical part of her said yes. As the two parts began to argue, she felt a headache start to form. Or had it already been there and just gotten worse? She couldn't be sure.

“Oratel?” he asked, brows furrowed in suppressed alarm. “Are you feeling poorly? Is that why you want to go back?” Keroshane surveyed her with a concerned look. While she appreciated it, the stubborn part took over _._

“That wasn't the impetus for my question,” Oratel responded. Her voice came out more quietly than she intended. “I merely believe that I'm not doing anything productive. You know where everything is whereas I do not. You know many of the creatures here when they are no more than curiosities to me. You know what to say while I can only stand by and listen.”

“I think you're better at talking than you believe,” Keroshane said. He had intended to comfort her, but it only poured salt onto her wounded pride.

“I know I can, Mister Keroshane,” Oratel said, stopping herself from snapping at him. “Any self-respecting queen should possess a quick tongue and even quicker wits. However, and this may have escaped your notice, I do not know the ways of this land and am having trouble understanding them. I feel as though the very air of this place is interfering with my head. I have trouble thinking straight at times, and my temper flares a lot easier than it has in a long time.”

“I'm sure Miiko poking the fire doesn't really help,” Keroshane muttered.

Unable to restrain herself any longer, she replied bitterly, “No, it does not, quite the opposite in fact. Thank you for your helpful insight.”

Her stomach lurched, signaling that she should start moving. Grabbing the bowl, she stood up quickly, which only made her feel worse. She swayed a little, dropping the bowl to the ground so she could steady herself on the table. “What the devil was in that brew?” she asked through gritted teeth, a hand over her stomach. She could feel the stares of wondering bystanders.

“Oratel!” Keroshane cried, hurrying out of his chair and going to her side. “You should've told me you weren't feeling well. I'll take you to the infirmary, Ewelein will-”

Without thinking, she moved away from Keroshane and started to run up the makeshift street. Her boots smacked against the ground, her feet as heavy as lead. Blood pounded in her head, making her wince. Her left eye clamped shut from the pain, making it even harder to navigate through all of shoppers, merrymakers, and vendors. She bumped into several while trying to escape.

Sweat was beginning to form on her brow, either from her fever or exertion, she didn't know. The only thing keeping her from falling face first into the road was the sound of Keroshane following behind her. She couldn't let him catch her.

One of her feet got caught on a misplaced brick. Before she knew it, she was on her stomach, which gave another lurched. Gritting her teeth, she made a fist then tried to shove herself into a kneeling position, her knuckles rubbing against the rough surface.

Keroshane caught up to where she lay. Kneeling beside her, he went to grab an arm. She smacked it away.

“I know you're distressed, Oratel, but you need help,” Keroshane said, desperately trying to get her to see reason.

“Why should I let you help me?!” Oratel snapped. “You'll just cart me off to that damn building again! The vixen would love to see me in a state like this, no doubt.” The last of her strength left her, leaving her to glare at Keroshane. “Why should I believe you have my best interests in mind? The rest of the Guard is keeping me against my will. You're just as guilty of that as the rest of them are.” Her vision was starting to blur. Her body was screaming for her to give up the fight. She screamed back that she would give up when hell froze over.

Keroshane didn’t know what to say. It was obvious that words would have no effect. If he tried to pick her up, she'd start struggling which would only advance whatever it was that pained her. But he couldn't arrive at H.Q. without her in tow. He didn't even want to think about the consequences if he did.

Somewhere deep within the crowd of patrons, a voice called to Keroshane. Oratel strained her ears to hear who had spoken, but it was getting harder and harder to distinguish all the noises from each other. Keroshane said something back, but she didn't know what. Blackness swarmed around her as the owner of the voice went to her side. Keroshane and the voice had a very quick discussion before strong arms wrapped around Oratel. She could here the faint noise of a heart beating. The feeling of familiarity crossed her mind before unconsciousness finally claimed its victim.


	6. A Revelation and Reunion

Mavric tried to focus on the large amount of work in front of him, but his mind kept going back to the attack. After he had left Oratel, he had traveled to the front to warn the rest of the knights about the ambush. Once they had been briefed, they left to assist Oratel. Mavric then lead the servants the rest of the way down the mountain, under the assumption that Oratel was handling herself well. The servants and himself waited at the bottom for any news. It was an excruciating wait; multiple times had he wanted to urge his horse back, if only to see if Oratel was in one piece. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, someone finally arrived. A particularly wounded and anxious knight found them and reported the outcome of the battle. Eleven of their men were slain, four more severely injured, and one with minor wounds. Most of the enemy's men had been killed, but many of them had fled once they realized they were losing. Thankfully, they had managed to capture at least one of their foot soldiers. Then came the worst news...

“Your Highness?” a deep, clear voice spoke, returning Mavric to the present.

Shaking his head, he looked at the woman who sat opposite of him. If Mavric had to describe her features in one word it would have to be "round"; her build was curvy and broad, similar to a fairy on an old painting. Light brown skin covered a circular face. Coarse black hair was wrapped into a bun. Small round glasses framed ink-black eyes, the type that seemed to stare into the very soul of anyone she happened to look at. And right now she was looking at Mavric past her large nose.

“Sorry about that, Brosta,” Mavric apologized, feeling sheepish. “My mind decided to drift off to elsewhere.”

Brosta said nothing, only adjusting her glasses slightly before returning to the sheet of paper she held.

She sat across a desk that was littered with various sheets of parchment and writing utensils. They were at the back of a large room. A window to the right of Mavric shed light on their work. Behind him was a bookshelf that covered an entire wall, stuffed to the brim with all sorts of reference books on any subject one could imagine. Underneath the two was a dark green carpet that had golden vines and leaves intricately woven into the fabric. Tapestries covered the other walls. One of them hung over a door that had been crafted from the same material the desk had been made out of.

Mavric took her lead and returned to the parchment in front of him. The two of them were going over various reports from the mines that were set deep within a few of the surrounding mountains. Apparently, one of them had collapsed, leaving many dead and even more injured.

The crises kept piling up, one after another; they just never seemed to end. Helplessness began its slow creep into his heart. A sigh escaped his lips.

Brosta looked back to Mavric with a frown. “Your Majesty, I understand your frustration, but no amount of wishing will bring the Queen back to us.”

“You say that as if she won't ever come back,” Mavric pointed out, feeling irritated.

Brosta had been given the title of Standing King before Oratel and himself had left their kingdom. It was usually just Oratel who went to meet other monarchs alone, but this particular meeting had required both of their presences. When it appeared that Oratel had vanished without a trace, Mavric decided to keep Brosta around as Chancellor until Oratel returned. Neither Mavric nor Oratel would've granted Brosta any political position in the first place if it hadn't been deserved, but just because she was the most qualified didn't make holding a conversation with her any more pleasant.

“I did not mean to indicate that the Queen would never return to us,” Brosta clarified, though Mavric couldn't tell if she meant it.

The sound of knocking filled the room. Mavric gave the visitor his permission to come in. The door opened to reveal a young woman in a black dress with a white apron and an older man in a standard military uniform.

“Sir Kilvry wishes to speak with you, Your Highness,” the maid explained.

“I assume you've interrogated our hostage?” Mavric offered.

“Indeed, Your Majesty,” the uniformed man answered. “I figured you'd want to hear the results straight away.”

“Of course.” Mavric nodded at the maid, who gave everyone a small curtsy before quietly leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

Brosta started to stand up, but Mavric waved her back down, saying, “I see no reason for you not to hear about this. Oratel's disappearance affects all of us.” As Brosta returned to her seat, Mavric nodded at Kilvry to start his report.

“The hostage's name is Desford,” Kilvry began, hands crossed behind his back, legs steady. “He's a foot soldier from the country of Lechany. A member of the Queen's Council had ordered the attack.”

“Queen of Lechany...” Mavric muttered under his breath. He racked his brain trying to remember her name, before finally alighting upon one. “Does Lady Florence know about this plan?”

“According to Desford, no,” Kilvry replied. “But that could just mean Desford isn't aware that she is.”

Mavric contemplated this information for a second before telling him to continue.

“The name of the person who planned the attack is unknown at this point in time,” Kilvry regretted to report. “And since the Queen's Council has twenty bodies to its name, that doesn't exactly narrow down our suspects.”

“True,” Mavric conceded. “But that does give us an idea as to who it could be. Were they ordered to kill anyone?” he added, uncertain about whether he wanted to know the answer.

“Not you or Queen Oratel, if that's what you're wondering,” Kilvry said, guessing his thoughts. “Their orders were to disrupt the traveling party and slay a few servants in order to underscore their attack. However, I'm inclined to disbelieve someone who might resort to lying to save his own skin.”

Mavric couldn't believe the Council member's audacity. To think that they had ordered the slaughter of unarmed forces... It made his stomach turn.

“Is there anything else?” he asked.

Kilvry shook his head. “Not at this point in time, Your Highness. When we obtain more information, I'll make sure word gets to you.”

“May your search prove fruitful.” Mavric waved a hand at Kilvry. “You are dismissed.”

Kilvry bowed. As soon as the door shut tight behind him, Brosta started tapping the quill she held against her chin. “Lady Florence. She is one of the main campaigners for the peace treaty, is she not?” Brosta asked, less because she didn't know and more because she wanted confirmation.

Mavric nodded. “One among several, Oratel and myself included.” He sighed. “Apparently one of her Councillors isn't happy with her stance.”

“Apparently so,” Brosta said quietly.

A hushed silence befell them as each turned to their own thoughts, the paperwork having been forgotten. Time seemed to have stopped in the room while outside it still moved forward; servants bustled about; the distant clang of metal could be heard; the sound of laughter echoed through the hall outside the door.

Brosta was the one to start the flow of time again. “I believe the attack was meant to add fuel to the fire.”

“Hm?” Mavric asked, momentarily confused as to what she was talking about. In an instant, he regained his bearings. “Uh, yes, that sounds about right. A ransom demand hasn't been sent as of yet, so that's one possibility.”

She nodded, then returned to the parchment in front of her. “We can puzzle this out later, Your Highness.”

“Right,” Mavric said under his breath. While he knew how important it was to finish the task at hand, his mind kept wandering back to Oratel. In his head, he uttered a prayer for her safety and good health before going to back to work.

* * *

Where was she? Whatever she was lying on was somewhat softer than the “bed” she had been given, so she wasn't in her room. The quiet whisper of life drifted against her ears; she assumed it was from the town close by. The place she was in was cool, but not uncomfortably so. Belatedly, she realized that there were two people talking, their voices were muffled as if they were speaking through a wall. She strained her ears to hear what they were saying, but she soon gave up. If they had wanted her to know, they would've waited until she had risen.

A tired sigh escaped her as she stretched her limbs and opened her eyes. Above her was a curved, pinkish-beige ceiling. Blue pillars with light blue veins decorating them held it up. The sound of water moving filled the silent room. Could there actually be a stream in here? No, that was preposterous.

Oratel sat up to get a better view. Sure enough, not far from where she was, a small river of water flowed slowly past her. Over the water was a bridge with ornate railings no taller than her knee; it lead to a walkway across from her. Eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement, she couldn't even begin to guess what the purpose of that river was or where the walkway went.

The ornate door opened to reveal a gray skinned women with pointed ears and light blue- almost white- hair. Closing the door, she started to walk across the marbled floor when she noticed that her patient was awake.

“You're up, I see.” She moved towards Oratel. “How do you feel?”

“I am well. I no longer feel the need to struggle with my stomach, at least,” Oratel replied. “Are you the one that tended to me?”

The elf woman gave her a small smile. “Yes, that I did. I'm the head doctor here and a member of the Light Guard. I should've introduced myself to you sooner, but I had other matters to see to.”

“I know who you are now,” Oratel pointed out, starting to stand up.

“You shouldn't be walking around just yet. Not until I've checked your vitals. You did take ill very suddenly after all,” Eweleïn said firmly.

An argument formed on Oratel's tongue, only to dissipate just as quickly. It would be wiser to go along with the doctor's request. She knew best, after all.

Laying back down on the chaise, Eweleïn brought over a chair and a few strange items that Oratel had never seen before. She began to ask Oratel questions about how she felt, if anything hurt, and many other questions. Oratel answered them as honestly as she could, all the while wondering what had happened to her and how long she had been asleep.

Soon enough, Eweleïn was finished with the check up. Picking the medical gear, she walked to a decorative burrow. Each drawer was transparent, showing even more foreign objects. The doctor put each item in their respective drawers then turned around to see Oratel already up and moving towards the door.

“You waste no time, do you?” Eweleïn asked, a small smile of amusement gracing her lips.

Stopping in her tracks, Oratel suddenly remembered her manners. Turning to face Eweleïn, she gave the doctor a small bow. “Thank you for your attention, without which I would most likely be worse for wear. Forgive my impatience, I--”

Eweleïn shot her a friendly grin. “There's no need for you to explain, I understand where you're coming from. However, before you go, I do have a couple more questions to ask you, if you don't mind.”

Oratel shook her head. “I do not mind at all.”

“In the world you come from, is there a lot of Maana?”

When Oratel raised an eyebrow, Eweleïn explained that Maana was their term for magic. Oratel pondered the question for a moment before replying. “I do not believe there is. There are creatures and certain sections of the populace who use magic, but those that do live far away from where my kingdom rests, and are more the exceptions, not the rule.”

Eweleïn pondered this information, a hand tucked under her chin in thought. “That would explain it...”

Oratel waited for her to continue, but when the doctor didn't, she said, “Would you care to share with me this explanation?”

“Ah, of course,” Eweleïn said, somewhat startled by the interruption of her thoughts. “It's possible that your lack of exposure to magical energy is what caused your collapse. I've treated people who couldn't handle a different location's magical properties, either because they were exposed too quickly or their own magical energy was the opposite of what they’d been exposed to. In your case, you weren't around magic for most of your life which makes it harder for you to bear. That soup you had was Dragonfly Fish, correct?”

Oratel nodded.

“Ah, there you have it. The Dragonfly Fish has a rich amount of Maana in it. This, in turn, was what made your body react poorly to the food,” Eweleïn concluded. She hastily added, “Although, this is all conjecture based on my own experiences. It's entirely possible that your case is very different due to where you're from.”

“I don't doubt your judgement, Elwin,” Oratel stated.

“'Elwin?'” Eweleïn repeated, her eyes twinkling with barely concealed humor. “Now, who told you that was my name?”

Somewhat flustered, Oratel explained, “I must beg your pardon for I am guilty of eavesdropping. I heard you and Mister Keroshane speaking through the door and in my confused state of mind, that was how I heard your name pronounced.”

Eweleïn giggled. “It's perfectly fine. No harm done, as they say. For future reference, my name is really Eweleïn.”

“I shall remember it,” Oratel said, meaning every word. She walked to the door and turned the knob before a thought popped into her head. Without thinking, she asked, “If I'm overstepping my boundaries, please tell me so: what were you and Mister Keroshane discussing, exactly?”

“You're not crossing a line, Oratel,” Eweleïn assured. “We were simply talking about what happened leading up to the moment where you passed out. That's all.” Bashfully, she added, “I should be the one to apologize for not telling you as soon as you woke up.”

Oratel questioned where Keroshane was. Eweleïn told her that she wasn't sure, but the library was probably a safe bet. Failing that, he would most likely be in the room that held the Grand Crystal. Oratel thanked her once again before stepping out into the large entrance hall, closing the bright red door behind her.

* * *

While Oratel was being given an exam by Eweleïn, Keroshane was anxiously waiting for Miiko in the Grand Crystal room. He didn't usually pace, but enough time had passed since he had sent for her that he found himself slowly walking around the room. Being the leader of the Light Guard was no easy feat, he knew that, but what task was making her take so long to see him?

With relief, he noticed the door finally open and a familiar looking fox woman step in, an equally familiar ogre trailing not too far behind. “What is it, Kero?” she asked, not bothering to hide her impatience. “I had to cut my meeting with Leiftan short because of your insis--”

“There's another person who managed to enter Eldarya,” Keroshane blurted out. He knew Miiko couldn't stand to be interrupted, but he figured that this news would make up for this gaffe.

Miiko paused on her way towards Keroshane, Jamon almost crashing into her. Keroshane couldn't tell what was going on in her head as she stared at him in wide eyed silence. Eventually, she found her voice. “You... This is a joke, right?” she asked, her expression underscoring how thoroughly annoyed she was. “I know you don't usually kid around, but there's a first time for everything.”

Keroshane shook his head quickly. “I meant what I said with absolute sincerity. The only reason I'm aware about this at all is because I met the woman. She got here in the same way Oratel did, a witch's circle. She was at the market when she noticed Oratel collapse-”

“'Collapse?'” Miiko parroted incredulously. “All she was doing was finding a stupid loaf of bread. There was no need for her to run herself ragged over that!”

Keroshane stifled his agitation as he summarized what had happened back at the market. “She's with Eweleïn now, but all of that's besides the point!” he cried. Hurriedly, he continued, “The fact of the matter is is that we now have _two_ people who suddenly arrived in Eldarya and we have no way to return them home.”

As she absorbed this information, Miiko took up Keroshane's earlier pacing. Her brow was furrowed as thoughts raced around her mind. “Kero, where is this other woman?” she said, stopping right in front of Keroshane. She looked at him straight in the eyes, her gaze unwavering and frighteningly cold. “Don't tell me you let her go as soon as she brought the newcomer back.”

“O-Of course, not,” Keroshane stammered in surprise. He couldn't help but feel hurt by this comment. The implication that he lacked good judgement regarding such matters was a sharp one. They had been working together for years, shouldn't she know by now how dependable he was? “She should be in the library.”

Without further ado, Miiko whipped around and was out the door before he could blink, Jamon practically tripping over himself to keep up with her.

* * *

The more she visited the library, the more it began to feel like a second home. It was an odd thing to think about. She still felt a strong resistance to being here, especially with the knowledge that all of this magic was messing around with her. It explained her unusually short temper and ever present fatigue.

“Mister Keroshane?” she called down one of the many aisles. The tapping of her boots echoed in the strangely quiet room. Even though this was a library, there would still be the occasional noise: a page turning, a hushed conversation, books being shelved and unshelved, all punctuated every so often with the snap of a book being shut. However, those sounds weren't here. Was it possible that everyone was too busy to visit?

Strolling down an aisle, her gaze glanced over the books she saw. The secrets they held were still kept locked tight, the key being the very words themselves. Words that she couldn't understand. If at all possible, she would like to learn. She was going to stay here for an unknown amount of time; there was no reason for her to remain illiterate. That is, if they expected her to be of any help.

There was someone in the aisle next to hers. Oratel couldn't say how she knew. The whisper of moving fabric? The humming of a song? Intuition? She could've sworn she heard the light slapping of bare feet moving along with her. The giant shelves had backs to them, making it impossible for her check. And yet, she didn't feel as though she had too.

Forgetting her original reason for visiting here, she let her curiosity lead her to the end of the shelves. She turned the corner and started up the next aisle. Halfway down, she saw a woman with long silvery hair. Very familiar looking silvery hair.

She thought she felt her heart come to the same abrupt stop her feet had. Taking a shaky breath, she breathed, “No, it couldn't be...”

The woman was a whole head taller than Oratel, her proportions long and slender, like that of an antelopes. The tip of her hair almost touched the ground. Delicate fingers trailed along the many books she walked next to. Her skin looked much like that of a young deer; fawn brown with lighter brown jagged circles; it wouldn't be illogical for someone to try and make a map from the pattern. Small green eyes were set in an oblong face. She wore a long sleeved empire dress that looked like it was floating through the air as she moved.

When she saw Oratel, she stilled her movement. The two of them stared at each other for several moments in puzzled silence. Then she smiled at Oratel, a warm tender smile. “My Lady,” she murmured, her voice deep and rich. “'Tis been too long since last we met. Would you not agree?”

Tears beginning to blur her vision, Oratel could only say one thing. “...Illiath?”


	7. Miiko's Meeting

Before she knew what she was doing, Oratel launched herself into Illiath's arms. So many words and questions ran through her head and formed on her lips but only one prevailed. “Illiath,” she breathed, her voice strained as she tried to keep back the onslought of tears that threatened to flow.

Illiath's slender arms wrapped themselves around Oratel, creating a comforting enclosure. A tender smile graced her features while she also tried to find the proper words, but none came. In no time, she found herself crying as well. It was as if there reunion had stopped time, just so they could have this moment of silence together.

All too soon, Oratel released herself from Illiath's surprisingly strong grasp. At the back of her mind, a memory lingered. She was being carried and a feeling of familiarity had made itself known. “You are the one that returned me here, are you not?” she blurted.

Illiath nodded, placing a hand on Oratel's cheeck. “'Twas I that brought thou here. Though, I am not certain of what 'here' is.”

Oratel gave her a brief explanation before clasping Illiath's hands in her own. “But enough about this place,” she said firmly. She guided her friend towards the sitting area. “We have much to discuss, yes?”

Illiath eagerly nodded her head and let Oratel lead her. Soon enough, they were comfortably seated.

* * *

Wooden getas clacked against the marble floor. The birdcage on Miiko's staff swung wildly, imitating her racing thoughts. Miiko liked to think that she knew all there was to know about Eldarya; its inhabitants, its geography, the unspoken laws that governed it. She trusted her allies and members to inform her about everything that happened, down to the last detail. How was it possible that no one, not even the most useless creature, had notified her about this? It was bad enough that there had been one intruder, but the fact that there was a second who had managed to slip through without anyone noticing was a special type of horror.

Finding herself in front of the library door, she grimaced in frustration. With any luck, this new development would be dealt with quickly. The Guard had enough on their plate as it was, no need to add yet another problem.

Miiko swiftly walked into the library with Jamon and an unhappy Keroshane trailing behind. The small group walked farther and farther into the room. Keroshane had sent word out that no one was to enter the library until further notice and for once it seemed like everyone had taken his word. It was a veritable ghost town. If it weren't for the sound of a conversation coming from the back, Keroshane would've thought this place uninhabited.

They made their way to the sitting area where Oratel was speaking with a stranger. Clearing her throat, Miiko asked tightly, “Oratel, would you mind introducing me to your friend?”

They stopped conversing. Both stood up, Illiath gazing at Miiko curiously while Oratel looked irate at being interrupted. Gesturing to her left, she said, “This is Illiath.” Illiath curtsied. “She is an old friend of mine and was brought here in fashion similar to my own arrival.”

“I only asked for a name.” Miiko's eyes scrutinized the tall, silver-haired woman. She clearly wasn't entirely human, but as to what species of creature she was, Miiko couldn't tell. “Explain how you got here,” she ordered.

“'Tis fairly simple, Miss,” Illiath started. “I was taking a stroll when I happened upon a circle of mushrooms. After inspection, I concluded that they were inedible, but before I could leave, a blinding light enveloped me. 'Twas then, that I found thyself in this land, Miss.”

Miiko waited for her to continue, but when she kept silent, Miiko said irately, “And then what? I find it hard to believe that you didn't come across anyone after you found yourself here. You're wasting my time and everyone else's by stalling!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it feels like this chapter just kinda stops, that's because it does. By the time I finally got around to writing this chapter, whatever motivation I had escaped me.
> 
> Thank you for reading this far, despite this fic's incomplete status. Your readership is greatly appreciated, and I hope you have a great day.


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